


First Drink

by WahlBuilder



Series: Fang and Claw [5]
Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Comfort, Dom/sub, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mind Meld, Painplay, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 04:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Viktor is stubborn, but Anton is even more stubborn and manages to convince Viktor to finally have his first drink of blood.Results are... unexpected.





	First Drink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haaska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haaska/gifts), [Salmaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmaka/gifts).



> For my wonderful enablers who tolerate my constant stream of terrible brilliant ideas.

After Anton turns Viktor, Viktor refuses to feed. It’s impressive that he lasts for a couple of (agonizing) days—but it’s also foolish, and Anton is at his wit’s end. And he pleads, “Vitya, you need to eat. And if you continue to refuse, I’m going to force you and I don’t want to do that. Because otherwise you are going to starve—but if you think you are going to die, you are mistaken. What’s going to happen is, you will become feral and attack anyone with blood in the vicinity—and by that I mean, in the worst case scenario, you would attack yourself. You would tear at your veins and gnaw at your arms. _Please_ , Vitya. I’m not forcing you to drink off anyone else. Just me. I’m willing. Please.”

Vik turns away.

So Anton sighs and whispers, “Vitya, I’m sorry.” And positions his claws at his own throat. “If you don’t, I will puncture my carotid and bleed. Give in, Vitya. You need it.”

Vik acquiesces.

Anton has to guide Vik through his first feeding. Cradling the back of Vik’s head in his palm, shivering from the press of lips to his throat (as though in apology), trying to hold back a gasp when Vik’s fangs pierce into him. Letting him drink his fill (trying not to focus on Vik’s moans, because he has to stay in control of the situation). Talking in Vik’s head, providing reassurance. And when Vik trembles, Anton gently makes him pull back. Looks into Vik’s glassy eyes. Helps him lie down and holds him in his arms, murmuring to him through it all.

He even drinks off Vik a little when he feels that Vik needs it.

It proves to be… an entirely new experience. He feels as though they are flowing together, minds linked—not the one-way connection as usual, with Anton initiating and controlling it, but entirely mutual, down to the deepest thoughts, and more, to the most hidden, unacknowledged emotions and feelings.

Anton is only dimly aware of his physical body, of Vik clinging to him, clawing at his clothes, Vik’s breathing ragged against his throat. He’s only dimly aware of purring something to Vik. They are so connected it’s so much and so wonderful. He feels as though he can coax Vik’s body into relaxation just because his blood is coursing through Vik. He fells as though he’s simultaneously occupying two bodies.

Finally, the connection is complete.

***

Viktor comes awake to a barrage of sensations: light and scents and sounds, and he groans—but then he manages to focus on a familiar presence.

“Awake? Shhh, don’t try to get up. Rest.” A warm hand touches his forehead, and he sighs, sinking into the pillows. Some moments pass, his mind becoming clear, and he... He recalls what happened. He tries to sit up—and Anton is here, helping him.

The light is only from the lamp on the bedside table, the curtains blocking out the view of the windows. Anton is in soft domestic clothes, and Vik finds himself wearing one of Anton’s old T-shirts (the worn, soft one; Anton’s scent seems more pronounced on it). Anton gives him a warm mug—green tea—and a saucer with broken down chocolate pieces, then sits down on the bed, searching Viktor’s face.

“Drink. And eat some chocolate, slowly, all right? You will feel better, I promise.”

He follows the instructions, and tea brings more clarity while chocolate melts on his tongue, so rich Viktor closes his eyes in bliss.

Anton chuckles. “It will ebb and flow for a while. Sensitivity.”

Viktor frowns, opens his eyes while his hand reaches for more chocolate. “Did we... Have sex while I was...?”

Anton shrugs. So casual. “Yes. I think. It was a need. I’m sure you remember.”

Oh yes, he remembers. To get closer, even though they were as close as possible, in a... mind meld, truly together, one. The details are hazy.

“Will it always feel like this?”

Another shrug. “Everyone’s different. But our case is special, I’d say.” He turns away, rubbing his neck. Viktor is very aware of the rise in Anton’s temperature, the color on his cheeks. “With the bond. I spent five days high on Dandolo’s blood. It was like... endless bliss. We had no choice, but if an ancient vampire ever offers you their blood as your first meal, politely decline the offer and ask for a rat instead.”

Viktor chuckles. “I’ll remember your advice.”

They sit like this while Viktor eats. He finds it the easiest to focus on Anton. Everything so sharp, so vivid. And he senses when something in Anton changes, when Anton tenses up.

“What’s wrong, Tosha?”

Anton looks at his lap. “Just wondering when you are going to become angry with me, sweet one.”

He puts the mug and the saucer on the table. “I wish you had asked my opinion, yes.”

Anton clasps his hands together. He still doesn’t look at Viktor. “You were dying,” he says quietly. “Call me selfish, but I didn’t want to lose you.” Finally, he looks at Viktor. Something fragile in his expression. “Is it so bad that you are here now? That you live?”

He leans back on the pillows. “I don’t know yet, Tosha,” he replies with honesty. Then reaches out. “Come here?”

Anton joins him under the blankets—their own cocoon—and Viktor is immediately wrapped in Anton’s strong arms. The touch, the pressure wake a longing in Viktor. He kisses Anton, easy and light, because he can, because he wants to, this small thing sending sparks down his spine nonetheless.

Anton licks his lips. “Still my sweet one.” He smiles, but Viktor can see this smile doesn’t exactly reach Anton’s eyes.

“Tosha,” he murmurs. “I’ll think on all this later.”

The tension around Anton’s eyes fades. “Of course. Anything you need, Vitya. Anything.”

They doze off, together, half-aware of their surroundings, holding each other. Anton’s head on Viktor’s chest, and Viktor knows Tosha is listening to his heartbeat, his breathing.

Viktor tries to remember—but it is difficult. Not because it’s fuzzy—but because there are no words in any human language for what he experienced. What _they_ experienced, together.

Though he _can_ find words for what he discovered in Anton. What he uncovered in himself, what he couldn’t hide from anymore. One word. That terrible word.

He kisses the top of Anton’s head, hears Anton let out a sigh.

“Tosha. Tosha, I... I...” He doesn’t know what he tries to say.

Anton strokes his side. “Shh. Rest. Rest.”

He presses himself closer to Anton, feeling as though he might drift away if Anton stops holding him. “Tosha. Could you... I want to stop thinking.”

Anton scrapes his jaw with fangs, and Viktor swallows a cry at that. It’s so _sharp_. Every sensation, amplified.

“Through pain?” Anton murmurs against his cheek. “Or command?”

Vik is trying to not hyperventilate. “Yes. No. Both. Tosha, I need...”

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

Anton runs a claw down his spine, and, over the shirt, the sensation should be dulled somewhat—but it _isn’t_ : it is as though he’s already being sliced open, and Viktor gasps, leaning into it.

Anton’s low chuckle by his ear disorients him, because he wants to pay attention to _everything_.

“So sensitive again?”

“Yes. Tosha. Oh fuck.”

“Ah. Swearing already, I see.”

“Stop teasing.”

Another chuckle. “No, not yet. You make the most beautiful noises.”

He groans in frustration.

“That’s exactly the noises I’m talking about.”

Anton presses him to lie down, and Vik goes willingly, his back exposed to Anton. Anton’s hand on the back of his neck, firm and reassuring.

“Do you trust me, Vitya?”

Vik can feel Anton’s emotions and they were connected (still are, if not just as intensely), so Anton knows... But Viktor understands why Anton is asking it. And he breathes out, “Yes. I do, Tosha.”

“Try to relax.”

Anton sounds strange, a little distant, and Viktor almost asks what—

The pain is _searing_. It burns down the whole world, like sweeping fire, it doesn’t leave space for any doubts or worries or any thoughts at all—a blissful roaring emptiness...

It fades just as suddenly, leaving Viktor trembling and sobbing, gasping for breath, his whole body singing as the wave of pain leaves him appreciative of being alive.

The hand on his neck strokes him.

It takes him a few moments more to take enough air in his lungs, to wipe his cheeks, to find his voice.

“What,” he croaks, pressing his face into the pillow, “was _that_?”

The hand moves onto his back, scratches his shoulder blades and rubs between them, and down his spine, and over his ribs.

“I don’t even have to inflict physical pain,” strangely, Anton sounds just as strained as he is, “to make you feel it. We are one. I can command you, your body to feel it.”

He recalls how to coordinate his limbs and manages to twist to look at Anton. There is a frown on Anton’s handsome face, and his gaze is dark and intent.

Viktor wets his lips. “You feel it, too.”

Anton smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Some. Don’t worry. How did feel? Was it what you wanted?”

He reaches for Anton, and Anton gives him his hand. Viktor laces their fingers tight. “I don’t want it if you are uncomfortable.”

Anton shakes his head. “I... just don’t know what to think about it yet. Aren’t you angry with me?”

Viktor knows Anton speaks not only about this (complete command of his body), but all of it.

“I’ll think on it later,” he reminds Tosha.

Anton looks away, and that frown is still there.

Viktor wants to... Oh, he saw this a couple of times. How hasn’t he recognized it now?

“Tosha. You are dropping. Come here. This is not bad. You are not bad.”

Vik pulls Anton to himself again, listening to his choked, half-formed apologies and guilt, strokes his back like Anton calmed him not long ago.

“Tosha,” he murmurs when Anton falls silent, tense in his arms. “I’m going to tell you a thing that I know as someone who’s been hunting vampires for all of his adult life, as someone who’s read everything that was ever written on vampires. It is possible to turn someone against their will, but the results are usually short-lived and devastating: ghouls and living corpses and crazed leeches, they are barely even persons. And just the fear of death is not enough—you must _want_ to live and you must want to live for _something_. Now, for vampires it is possible, easy even, to manipulate someone into wanting it, but that is beside the point.”

He pulls back to look Anton in the eyes (so broken). “Tosha. I _wanted_ to stay. You know what I...” His barely summoned resolve cracks. “How I feel about you. I was ready to die then, I even wanted it, I wanted rest, finally. But I couldn’t help regret that we... That we hadn’t had an opportunity to do so many things. And then you came, and that regret became stronger. A regret that I die as a hunter, and not as your... As your Vitya. You gave me another chance, Tosha—but it was _I_ who took it. I _am_ angry and it’s so early that I still don’t know what to think about all this, and maybe a little later I will have a bout of hatred and disgust with myself. But what you gave me, I accepted.”

Anton sighs, brings their foreheads together. “I’m glad you did.”

He starts to think he’s glad, too.


End file.
